


Something Stupid

by Panda365



Series: Tumblr Requests [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce banner & Natasha Romanova - Freeform, F/M, Love Confessions, Running Away, Running with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29689842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panda365/pseuds/Panda365
Summary: Bruce and Natasha have managed to escape after Ultron. Here is a look at their relationship during the following days/months...*Tumblr Request
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov
Series: Tumblr Requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181882
Kudos: 16





	1. Running With It

Running was always part of the plan. Constantly moving, hoping from one place to another in the hopes of avoiding the inevitable calls, contacts…

Disappearing is easy when you have a man on your team that has been on the run before. He knows how to vanish, how to stay off the radar- anyone's radar.

With a little help from Natasha, a seemingly all knowing spy, no one can find them. Gone. Erased from existence since Sokovia; a battle won only barely with some heavy losses.

They don't entirely know how it ended, only that Ultron is gone through spurts of rumors and news. Secluded in the middle of nowhere makes it hard to have contact with the outside world be it friend or foe.

They don't have friends, for better or for worse they have each other.

He hasn't had a 'code green' in years but always feeling angry has its downsides when he's responsible for another life; the one thing Bruce has never had to worry about before. Sure, she's independent and can handle herself just fine; but the worry remains.

Sure, there were moments where Betty Ross might tag along for a bit on his wild runaways but never long enough to make a huge difference in his daily pattern.

He falls back on his minor knowledge of the Turkish language, as they pass through Turkey and a dependency on one of his 7 phds; medicine.

Natasha is a professional when it comes to stealth. It turns out her spy skills come in handy when faced with different ultimatums, drug lords, manipulating home owners for a room and the like. It isn't all 'legal' per say but it works.

A life based on a lie isn't easily changed when push comes to shove. Her other skills of martial arts are coming in handy when she decides to teach a small group of children in the street. For once it's an honest and rewarding 'paycheck.' As a plus she gets to work with some pretty kind hearted children.

Natasha smiles through it all, trying to find the small rewards. It's nothing crazy but it'll cover some food from the market.

She knows Banner's pattern, meeting him around the corner and toying with her Turkish lira once they meet. She shares her stash and he shares his, letting her do the counting as they marched in sync with each other on the streets of Istanbul;

"Good day?"

"Perfect. Little Susy is a Black Belt prodigy."

"That's not her name."

"See you back at the shack?"

"Yep," he swings his bag around and heads in the opposite direction while she moves for the marketplace to stock up on food for the week. She can handle herself, pistol at her side and always ready to take a punch at someone should anybody try to rob her.

It's not all bad. She's getting to know her company, friends with some of the business owners.

By the time she makes it back, it's dark outside, a brief exchange with Bruce before she mumbles about some outpost she barely remembers a few miles south. He would seem to be onboard, poking at their fire.

She's at peace despite a simple life and an unsteady state, curling up for the night on their small cot after a warm meal and a brief conversation.

They're only a few weeks into their escape and still mid adjustment with one another. It gets tense but it's nothing they can't handle. Natasha has had worse and all she wants in the world is him. Bruce has lived through worse but all he wants in the world is her.

He moves to check on her, kindly moving the blanket up her shoulder by an inch. It's one of the few times he's bold enough to even touch her.

Week by week, month by month, they get closer.


	2. Some Clever Line

A few more cities, countries...what feels like other words, merits settling in mid Italy. A far more romantic setting than they're accustomed to.

It's an odd country to be stuck in to begin with and Natasha's grand idea to casually pop into a café causes him to concede with a bit more optimism. Carrying their same small bags of accumulated necessities is more than enough to help them on the route to who knows where.

After spending months together they're laughing more, growing in their odd relationship based on trust.

For the first time in forever Natasha is learning to trust and depend on someone else to help her function through life. Her incessant need for space, to be alone, to provide herself is slowly evaporating.

Bruce isn't the only one not accustomed to looking after another human being. Having someone with her every night is warm, secure, safe, and yet strange.

Natasha's previous instincts are to avoid any and all attachments. They are the ultimate weakness. Something that can easily be preyed upon and endanger a mission.

When there isn't a mission to be concerned about, she is forced to face her feelings and to look inward. And yet all she can see or even feel is a messy snow globe of chaotic emotions. Her world turned upside down and then flipped upright again.

She feels as though she's watching her life from an outsider's perspective every time he smiles. Every time he laughs. Her heart flutters…

Natasha adores Bruce and she can tell he has some unfamiliar suppressed emotion for her. The way he touches her is different, the way he talks, questions, cares is all unique.

No man, woman, or peer in her life has ever looked at her in a way that doesn't demand some sort of monetary reward, reciprocation or pay up. Anything he does is for their survival. For her to laugh, feel safe, function and live.

It's a simple life that's causing her to see him in another way. She's confessed adoration and he's done the same in his own awkward way. He's a hard person to read for the master spy and yet she keeps trying. Bruce is cautious but his walls are falling steadily.

He attempts to hold her at night, 'to keep warm'. She consents with a smile and nuzzles up against his skin. An unspoken attraction between the twosome growing by the day.

No fling of Romanoff's has lasted for more than a week, hesitant over some lady repercussions. This is different. Bruce gives more than he takes and puts her first no matter what city they find themselves in. Comfortable in her presence.

His touch is warm, caring, kind…she craves it.

This morning in the café she has decided that his laugh feels like home. His request to brush her eyelash from her cheek is a normal occurrence. Searching the city for a place to stay feels equally normal and she works her magic- fluent in Italian.

Their small room is quaint, the safest place they've had in a while. The soft pink comforter and dated curtains are the last of their concerns. They curl up together for a while, Natasha situating herself against Bruce's body as if they were the pieces of some puzzle. The steady hum from the heater soothes their frantic nerves and they fall into some safe and dreamless sleep.

* * *

When she wakes he meets her forehead with his soft lips, "Morning."

She can tell he's immediately questioning his greeting with the way he awkwardly traipses away and back to his project. Natasha stretches and sits up in their bed, "What are you up to?"

He shrugs, "The homeowner had tech issues. Said we could get an extra night if I can figure out her television.”

Natasha leaves a hand in her messy red hair and watches him proudly, "I'm not going to argue with that. What time is it?"

"Four," he mumbles and refocuses on his project.

She hums, realizing she's slept for five hours and ready to sleep for five more. She leans back against her pillow, yawning and crossing her arms, "I can find some work in Italy."

"Yeah?"

"Easily. I actually have the identity of a stray crime lord. Give me two days, that would give us a heavy paycheck to cash out on."

He barely responds. Maybe it's a grunt, Natasha isn't sure. She lifts the blanket from herself when she realizes trying to fall back asleep without him positioned behind her is pointless. Her feet reach the floor, bones aching from the instability and improper rest. She sinks backward and watches as his eyes fall onto her;

"You okay, Nat?"

She nods and yawns again, "I'm good."

"You can go back to sleep, there's nothing to rush off for."

Natasha huffs an exhale, running a hand through her hair. Confessing she can't sleep alone sounds so helpless. Weak even. Right?

She shakes her head, "I'm good. No point in wasting our day."

The redhead is industrious and while he's angry over the limp screwdriver there's no point in arguing with her. She does what she wants when she wants to.

When the woman turns to say 'she'll be back later' he realizes he actually misses her throughout the day. Eager for the night when they'll return to the shared space. For the first time in forever he's no longer alone. But it's so much more than that;

Natasha is smart, funny, eager to make the strangeness of their nomadic life work. She supports him, comforts him in her own way with a touch or a smile, some comforting words. His heart warms just thinking of her, turning back to refocus on his project.

* * *

Romanoff's skill and tactics have her pegging her crime lord in matter of hours dialing anonymously over the public phones to notify the proper authorities of her ventures. When she returns back to their bed and breakfast of sorts, she's a bit shocked to spot a lit candle on the side table with some fluffy pancakes.

She bites to tug off her glove and let's down her hair, eyeing Banner, "What's this?"

He shrugs and pours two glasses with a small bottle of wine, "Turns out the homeowner paid me anyways. So we have two extra nights and some extra cash flow."

She scoffs, "I think I still might have you beat. Can the hulk handle his alcohol? This is Italy we're talking about."

He smirks sheepishly, tugging out her rickety chair as she unbuttons her jacket to breathe and settles in the spot he offers. She raises her glass over the do light space and smirks in his direction;

"To running with it?"

"Cheers," he clicks his glass and they take a sip.

Bruce dices his pancake first and takes a bite, "If it's burnt-."

She shakes her head, stuffing her face, "It's great. I'm starving."

He nods, watching her with a nervous anxiety. He's accustomed to her every quirk. Her scent. Her perfume. The way she parts her hair. He takes another sip of his wine;

"Hey Nat, I uh…"

"What," she coaxes with a whisper.

He laughs lightly, "Nothing. Never mind."

"Speechless," she moves her bite to her cheek.

She can spot the tinge of pink forming over his upper cheeks, a stray curl over his forehead. He takes an inhale;

"I just...y'know. I've done this whole- life on the run thing for practically my whole life. But um. Having someone to share things with...it's different."

"Different?"

"A good 'different'," he butchers his pancake, stabbing and pulling with his fork.

She takes up her drink, swirling patiently. He drops his utensil, "You didn't have to come with me-."

"I wanted to."

He looks up with a soft focus, "Why?"

Natasha swirls her glass once more, "Because I liked you."

"You liked me?"

She toys with him playfully, reaching a foot up to brush his knee, "I did, I still do."

He squirms out of her reach and presses the issue, the same topic, "Why."

"You amuse me."

"Amuse you…"

Natasha pauses her play and crosses her knee, leaning her elbows on the table, "Why all the questions tonight, doc? Italian air has you growing soft?"

He scoffs lightly, refocusing on his meal, "Is 'soft' a problem?"

"I mean," she smirks flirtatiously with a wink.

He coughs to clear his throat, "I should've left you in Cairo."

She pouts briefly, returning to her meal, "I liked Cairo."


	3. Confessions

Natasha finds another way to earn a few euros. Ars-en-Ré proves to be a small enough town, worth hiding in for a while. She enjoys it, Bruce finds work easily. It works. She likes the city, he likes the water.

She expresses a desire to walk the pier one night and so they do. He takes her hand…

They've walked in that same way before, comfortable with contact and a brief touch, a kiss or two. They are touch starved with a nonverbal agreement that they take what they need and give what they can. Natasha decides they're only human after all. No matter what he seems to melt- a reaction she's never experienced before. He's grateful for what she provides, whatever she offers, absorbing the contact like some sort of sponge. She loves the way his eyes light up when she touches him, the way he looks at her as if she's the last woman on earth, hanging on her every word whenever she talks.

Tonight she decides to kick off her sandals and enter the small bay, leading him to the water's edge to splash in his face.

Bruce is taken back by her action. She's flirty, playful in her own way. 

He's laughing before too long, maneuvering himself to splash her in reply when she finally sits beside him on the dock. He threatens to throw her in the water, she pins his arms instead. She chuckles in response, comfortable in their game.

He blinks, biting at his inner cheek. She frees her hold, letting Bruce push up his elbows.

He's kissed her before, in passing. She's done the same. At this moment he doesn't want that same emotion, craving something a little deeper, needing to free his own deep rooted emotion.

It is as if Natasha can feel the same emotions, sitting back on her heels. She forces a laugh and asks him to speak up, questioning what's on his mind.

His dizzy, eyeing her lips when he sits upright to meet her position, taking an inhale, and forcing his words to come out after taking an inhale full of her delicate perfume;

"Nat I have a confession."

"You stole from the old couple downstairs."

"No, no," he laughs lightly.

She can sense a heaviness in his eyes, dreading the impending remarks when he continues;

"These past few months, they've meant a lot to me. Having you beside me- I'm not used to sharing life with anyone else. And there's no one else I'd rather share it with."

She knows he's emotional, sensitive, so she touches his shoulder- he likes that, "Oh Bruce-..."

"Natasha, I love you."

Natasha swallows hard, suddenly lightheaded. She stares vacantly. Asking for clarification only means he'll repeat the same words that have triggered her so she freezes instead.

Based on his withdrawn reaction, he's feeling awkward himself. Her eyes fall on his wringing fingers…

"...oh."

He lifts his eyebrows, breathing and trying to tame his instinctual response…he does a poor job of of it;

"Wow...You cut me off twice and that's all you have to say?"

Natasha slowly lowers her head, lifting a hand to touch over her cheek. She's getting tense- defensive…

"Bruce…"

"What?"

"Bruce I…" Her head drops into her hands over his patience, wishing he would cut her off. Storm off. Leave.

Leaving seems logical…

She snatches up her sandals, rotating away from Bruce. She can barely hear him calling her name, borderline unconscious until she realizes she's halfway across the boardwalk, barefoot and alone…

By the time she looks over her shoulder with a little longing, wondering if he'll follow. He's gone instead. Completely vanished.

She circles back, hugging an elbow and walking the same short boardwalk an upwards of twenty times just lost in thought, drowning alone in her overturned emotional state and confusion.

Love isn't real. Love doesn't last. Love isn't an emotion meant for her.

Adoration is a respect for another person...love…

What is love? She laughs to herself, looking up at the city. She's in the city most known for love, with the one man that has stood by her side for more than a week. Who has made life work with her for the past few months. Who has confessed that he loves her and yet she feels unbelievably numb.

Her heart is heavy, a lump she can't be rid of inside of her throat.

She craves his company, his touch, a joke to distract her from anything heavy. And yet the mere thought of him feels so different.

She circles another lap around the boardwalk, returning back to their 'home' past two in the morning and sneaks as quietly as possible into the bed beside him.

Natasha is a spy- she can tell he's awake, not surprised when he gets up in his plain t-shirt and sleep shorts to move elsewhere in their small room- positioning himself comfortably over on the sofa.

Neither one speaks. She rotates to face away from Bruce and he completely ignores her very existence.


	4. I Love You

Natasha is staring blankly out of the window when he returns from who knows where, the couple once again forced to share the small room. She takes a breath and offers a smirk, hoping he'll joke with her, mutter some sarcastic remark about his day.

Instead, Bruce is camping at the small table and flipping through a newspaper.

She timidly invited herself closer, braving the idea of a conversation;

"I never told you about what happened yesterday-."

"Before or after you stormed off over my confession," he sits back with a pointed focus, folding one arm over the other.

Natasha drops her arms at her sides and nods, "Neither. It's about the mission I'm taking on to get us free passage to our next city."

"Why, did you accidentally tip someone off."

She takes a breath and looks away. His tone isn't doing anything to keep her calm, determined to make his frustrations abundantly clear.

"Look Bruce, I know you're upset."

"I'm not upset, I'm confused," he stands, giving the paper an extra toss to accentuate his words, fiddling with his fingers next as he circles.

"Why."

"You stormed off after I told you loved you. Why?,” he laughs lightly, grabbing the back of the chair to lean on.

"It's complicated," she dismisses.

"We're beyond 'complicated', Nat."

She sinks into a chair, hugging her elbow, "I don't understand-."

"Tell me about it. Maybe we should part ways-."

Natasha throws her hand into the table, standing to meet him at eye level, "Don't you dare, I did not cross half the globe with you just to have you abandon me-."

"Then talk to me, Nat!"

"I'm trying to."

"About who you are. How you feel…? What you want. What do you want?"

She gasps, tugging her hair while he waits.

"Can we just forget-."

"I can't,' he admits with a harsh swallow, 'I love you. I can't, just, forget how I feel. I care about you. I have, deep feelings for you that are real. I'm tryna be honest and the least you can do is hear me out."

She nods, calmer in her reply, "You know I care about you too-."

"Love, Nat, love. Why is that such a trigger word?"

"It just is."

Her confession leaves them both quiet. He's waiting with kind eyes while she twists her molars, bites her cheek and rotates her jaw.

She picks at her fingers, zeroed in on a cuticle while she rambles with her stray thoughts, digging deep into her memories for some sort of honest answer.

Underneath her hard exterior are layers. She mentally peels away each one, shutting off her 'spy mode';

"When you're a child, you absorb everything that's around you; how your parents treat each other, how your peers look at you. And you crave their approval, you'd do anything to stay on their good side to earn some sort of recognition. For someone like me, raised and reared to kill, trained to earn approval in some dark demented way, love is the last thing on your mind. It's about survival. And surviving means suppressing all that you are and all that you feel. When you have to change who you are to earn the approval you crave, emotion becomes a weakness. It's something that can be against you."

Her mouth quirks upward to a half smirk, "Trusting is hard for me, letting go isn't an option."

"I get that,' Bruce sighs softly, 'I'm asking if, you'd be willing to try. We ran away, together, so let's do this...together. Trust me the same way you've asked me to trust you. Let me in. You don't have to fight to keep me away; if you want me gone, I'll go-."

"I don't, want you to go," She resists the urge to bite her lip.

"...But you don't love me."

Her voice drops to a whisper, gripping her arm a little tighter, "...I don’t know what love is.”

Bruce tugs at the back of his neck, taking a breath before he decides to keep taking, "Nat; You're the strongest woman I've ever met and enjoy your company. There's no one else I'd rather be scraping for pennies with...even if this isn't the life you deserve. I love-,' he smiles absentmindedly, catching himself, 'I admire who you are. And that feeling is growing by the day."

She smiles lightly, moving closer to him and gently touching his cheek, "I adore you. There is nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you. I promise."

He makes eye contact, grinning softly, "Yeah?"

"Yes,' she reaches to toy with his curls, 'I'm not, the most emotionally available woman in the world. But, I don't want anyone else, I want you."

"Why."

"I could ask you the same,' she lowers her focus, the two of them brushing their foreheads together, 'You make me want to be better. You only see good. I wish I could be that way."

"Sorry,' He kisses her forehead and hugs her shoulders to pull her close into a warm embrace, 'We have a good thing, whatever this 'thing' is...and then I go and ruin it by saying something stupid."

Natasha lays her head against the crook of his neck, holding his shoulder with one of her arms, "Is this love?"

He pulls his neck back briefly to give her a glance from the corner of his eye, "What?”

"Us. This. Being content with each other, to only want each other."

He lifts a shoulder, brushing a stray hair from her cheek, "It's something like that."

She smiles lightly, content in his arms, "Maybe I do then."

"You do what?"

"Love you."


End file.
